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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811050">Wings of a Dark Dove</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/eemawrites/pseuds/eemawrites'>eemawrites</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU (Comics)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Court of Owls, Dick Grayson &amp; Damian Wayne Bonding, Dick Grayson Needs a Hug, Dick Grayson is a Talon, Fluff, Found Family, Gen, I’m bad at updates but I swear I’m trying, Platonic Relationships, The Court of Owls - Freeform, batfam acting like siblings, this is all about destiny</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-08-09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 11:41:06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>4</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>9,871</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25811050</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/eemawrites/pseuds/eemawrites</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Dick Grayson is the Court of Owls prize Talon, their Gray Son of Gotham.</p><p>Beware the Court of Owls, that watches all the time,<br/>Ruling Gotham from a shadowed perch, behind granite and lime.<br/>They watch you at your hearth, they watch you in your bed.<br/>Speak not a whispered word about them, or they'll send the Talon for your head.</p><p>Beware the son of Gotham, born to rule their roost,<br/>Kin of birds and Talons, a young king introduced.<br/>He shall face a Talon’s trials, then he shall rise above,<br/>Become the Gray Son of Gotham, to rule on wings of a dark dove.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>180</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Weight of the World</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>So this is my first ever fic, and i'm new to Ao3, so forgive any mistakes I make with stuff.<br/>Thank you to my wonderful beta (Link pending, i'll fix it I promise!)</p>
    </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is from the song by Shayfer James</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Grayson knocked the knife easily from the Owlet’s hand, pinning his arm before he could draw another blade. The kid couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Grayson almost felt bad about what he had to do. <em>Almost.</em></p><p>He hesitated as the  knife hovered above the kid’s neck. There was no room for mercy with the Court, but he still looked away as he slit the Owlet’s throat. </p><p>“Sorry,”  he muttered, then turned to face the Talon observing him.</p><p>“You hesitated.” The Talon strode towards him, and Grayson squared his shoulders.</p><p>“I-”</p><p>“Hesitation will get you killed. Remember, Gray Son, you must become <em> more </em>than a Talon, and you’ll never get there if you continue to hesitate for the kill,” the Talon snapped. “The Court wants you to be perfect, and you continue to disappoint them.”</p><p>Grayson ducked his head. “Yes, sir.”</p><p>“Good. Go back to your room. Your training will continue tomorrow.</p><p>He hurried to do as he was told, grateful that the Talon had decided not to punish him for hesitating to kill the kid.</p><p> </p><p>He only relaxed when he was back within the white-walled cell he called his room.</p>
<hr/><p>He couldn’t stand the other Talons, especially not the Owlets. The fledged ones were bearable, at least they didn’t try to talk to him. It was the young ones he hated, for a few reasons. </p><p>For one, they weren’t supposed to talk, but that rule had never stopped them. They gossiped like <em> children </em>about his supposed destiny. </p><p>For another, he was the Gray Son of Gotham, and he was supposed to be <em> more </em>than Talon. It was a waste of his time training with mere Owlets, they weren’t the ones with a destiny, <em>were they?</em></p><p>And <em> destiny? </em> All he knew about his destiny was the title it had mantled him with, Gray Son of Gotham. The Court never bothered to <em> explain </em> to him what it meant, they just expected him to obey. All it seemed to do was make his life more difficult. The Owlets didn’t seem to want to enlighten him, either, which made their constant yammering <em> insufferable </em>.</p><p>Sometimes he wished he wasn’t a Talon. Life would have been a lot simpler if he’d just stayed at the circus.</p>
<hr/><p>His training only became more intense . He learned to ignore his conscience - he could not afford to disobey the Court. He learned not to hesitate. He learned to always go for the kill, whenever the opportunity presented itself. None of this seemed to rid him of the guilt that came with each Owlet that lay dead at his hands. </p><p>His mentor was worse than ever, constantly pushing at him and punishing him harshly for the slightest mistake.</p><p>Grayson <em> knew </em>the Court wanted him to be perfect, but his mentor couldn’t seem to go a day without reminding him of his failure to meet that standard. </p>
<hr/><p>A few weeks later, he was brought before the Court. Another Owlet stood waiting across the Courtroom as his mentor, Cobb, led him in.</p><p>The Court was staring down at them. Grayson felt incredibly exposed under their gaze.</p><p>Finally, the Grandmaster spoke. “Gray Son of Gotham, your mentor says you are nearly ready to begin your trials.”</p><p>He gestured around the Courtroom, then focused again on Grayson. “Today, you are to demonstrate your skills, and you will be judged by the Court.” His voice turned cold. “I do hope you don’t disappoint us.”</p><p>Cobb stepped back against the wall and the Court murmured to itself. </p><p> </p><p>After a moment of expectant silence the Owlet lunged at Grayson.</p><p>He jumped back awkwardly, unprepared for the attack. The knife bit into his forearm and he hissed in pain.</p><p><em> Already </em> he was disappointing the Court. He’d fought plenty of Owlets, he had been stupid not to expect a fight. Why else would it have been there anyway?</p><p>Grayson danced away, dodging another slash of the Owlet’s knife. He spun around the Owlet, and before it could react, Grayson’s throwing knife was sinking into the back of its knee. It collapsed with a choked scream. Grayson pinned him to the ground.</p><p>The Owlet bucked and twisted desperately, trying to escape. </p><p>Despite his better judgement, Grayson managed to catch his eyes. They were filled with tears, and his face was a mask of terror. Grayson grimaced as he pressed the knife to his throat. </p><p>“Sorry,” he whispered, so quiet that he doubted the Owlet heard him.</p><p> </p><p>Grayson dropped the Owlet’s body and stood to face the Court. Although their faces were hidden behind their masks, he could still feel the force of their disapproval.</p><p>His mentor stepped forward to stand next to him. By the way Cobb stood, Grayson could <em> tell </em> he wasn’t happy. </p><p>“Mr. Cobb, was <em> that </em> supposed to be a demonstration of his skill?” The Grandmaster addressed his mentor, and Grayson ducked his head. “That was <em> pathetic </em>.”</p><p>Cobb shifted on his feet. “He won’t disappoint you again. I’ll make sure he learns this time.”</p><p>Grayson winced. He knew he deserved whatever punishment Cobb decided on, he <em> had </em>just embarrassed him in front of the entire Court of Owls-that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it.</p><p>“Gray Son of Gotham.” The Grandmaster’s voice was tense, and Grayson looked up at him. “You have disappointed us. You will be punished as your mentor sees fit. You cannot expect to become more than a Talon if you continue like this.”</p><p>Grayson nodded. “Yes Grandmaster.”</p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>“Get rid of your weapons. You won’t need them.” Cobb led Grayson into what <em> looked </em> like another training room. (Then again, he’d learned by now that appearances could be deceiving.)</p><p>As for the weapons, Being told to lose them  was never a good thing. He wasn’t sure what punishment Cobb had in store for him, but it likely involved some sort of humiliation. He only told Grayson to remove his weapons when he wanted to humiliate him.</p><p>He ducked his head and stripped himself of weapons, dropping his throwing knives first, then the twin blades he kept on each hip. Finally he pulled out the short knife he kept secreted inside his boot and dropped it as well. Cobb watched, and Grayson could almost picture the disdainful smirk hidden underneath the mask.</p><p>The lights snapped off, and he had to suppress a squeak of surprise. He could hear Cobb circling him like a shark circling its prey. The Talon mask allowed Cobb one advantage, in that he could actually <em> see. </em></p><p>Cobb’s footsteps got quicker and quieter, and Grayson tried not to flinch back everytime they approached him. </p><p> </p><p>The first blow came from behind, a sharp jab to the back of his neck. Grayson stumbled away and spun, bringing his hands up to protect his face. He glanced around wildly, but the darkness remained impenetrable. Cobb’s footsteps stopped. No sounds, save for his own panicked breathing, breached the deafening silence. </p><p>Cobb targeted his ribs next, , the jab knocking his breath away. He gasped and struck, lightning fast, in the direction of the quickly receding footsteps, but met nothing but empty air.</p><p>His legs went next, knocked from under him, a boot landing on his arm as the rest of his body followed. He tried to muffle the whimper as Cobb ground his boot into the still-bleeding wound .</p><p>“You know better than to disappoint me like that. The Court expects nothing less than perfection, and that was nowher close.” Grayson flinched with the acid dripping from Cobb’s voice.</p><p>Cobb kicked him in the ribs. He twisted away, trying to scramble to his feet, but a kick to the back of the head stunned him. He tasted blood.</p><p> </p><p>Cobb left him there, bruised and bleeding in the pitch black room. Eventually he scraped himself off the floor and felt his way over to the wall. He was cold and hungry. There was little hope of anything improving until Cobb was sure he’d learned his lesson.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Blood in the Water</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Grayson's Trials finally take place!</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>TW: Violence, you know, the usual for this fic.<br/>Chapter title is the song: Blood // Water by grandson</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span> A few weeks later Grayson was awoken rather rudely by a Talon yanking him from his cot. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Talon, who he didn’t recognize, didn’t let go of his ankle until he’d dragged him into the hallway.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What are you doing?” </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Talon didn’t answer, and only paused for long enough for Grayson to get his feet underneath him before pulling him headfirst into the labyrinth that was the Court’s Roost. It wasn’t long before Grayson no longer recognized where he was. With mounting horror, he realized he’d left his only readily-available knife under his pillow.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>They reached their apparent destination when the Talon shoved him forward into a long, dimly lit hallway. Grayson spun to ask what was going on, but was met with a door slammed in his face.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned, peering down the hallway in front of him. It was too dark to see the end, but the way back was blocked and that left one direction: forwards.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The hallway branched. He went right. It branched again. He went right again. He kept to the wall, trying to track where he was going. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He looked around as he walked, searching for any distinguishing feature on the blank marble walls. Finding nothing, he cast his gaze to the ceiling. It disappeared into darkness, and he briefly wondered if he could try and climb out, but the walls were too smooth to get a foothold, and too high to jump and grab the top. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Hell, he couldn’t even </span>
  <em>
    <span>see </span>
  </em>
  <span>the top. For all he knew they could continue up for hundreds of feet.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He kept walking.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually he grew tired, and sank against the wall to rest. He wasn’t sure how long he’d been in this strange maze, but it had to have been hours by now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>After a brief rest he set off again. Each hallway was identical, and it wasn’t long before Grayson got the feeling that he was running in circles.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like he’d been in the maze for days before something changed. He was tired and thirsty and thinking about how much he’d just like to </span>
  <em>
    <span>eat </span>
  </em>
  <span>something when he realized that the dim light of the maze turned brighter some way ahead. . He picked up his pace, settling for a swift jog that got him moving, but didn’t recklessly spend what little energy he had left. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He emerged into a grand room, lit so brightly that his eyes, so used to the dark, began to ache in violent protest.  A towering fountain featuring an owl statue stood grandly  at the far end of the room. A single door adorned each of the three remaining walls. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He ran to the fountain, self-preservation forgotten for but a moment, but forced himself to pause before drinking. He wouldn’t put it past the Court to drug the water, as  he still wasn’t sure why he was here. Was this where he was supposed to end up? Or was this a mistake?</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Maybe they had decided to kill him? Though that made little  sense, considering the fact that  they were constantly  going on about his “destiny”. Then again, very little of what the Court did made sense to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gazed down at the water, realizing with a start that this reflection was the first time he’d seen himself since he was still in the circus. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson shook the thought away, tearing his gaze from the flickering image. He wasn’t a kid, nor was he in the circus anymore, and he hadn’t been either for a long time. He’d made his choice when he decided to go along with the Court’s training, and there was no going back now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He turned his back on the fountain, instead turning a watchful eye on his surroundings. The lights were still painfully bright, and he had to squint to avoid getting a headache.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The fountain was pressed against one wall of the room, so tall that when he looked up he could barely see the top of the statue. The three doors leading out looked identical, but he knew he had come in through the door directly across from him now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He weighed his options. Sit and wait, or move. Both options had the potential for him to be killed, but at least in moving he would have more control over the situation. Eventually, he decided on the door on the left. It led back into the maze, and Grayson’s eyes cried with relief as he delved back into the darkness. Keeping a hand pressed to the wall and counting every turn he took, he ventured on. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It was boring, and exhausting. He swore he passed the same branch at least three times. It felt like he’d been wandering for several hours before the maze spat him back out into the fountain room again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His throat felt like a desert at this point, and he was exhausted. A tiny sip of the  water couldn’t hurt too much.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The water tasted faintly sweet, and he only allowed himself a tiny mouthful  before he stood, turning back into the maze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>As soon as he was around the first corner, and out of the bright lights of the fountain room, he sank to the floor, all of his muscles giving way. He rested his head on his knees, curling into a protective ball and let himself drift into a restless sleep.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He dreamed for the first time in years. He was standing on the floor of the big circus tent, staring up at his parents as they flew on the trapeze. It was one of the high risk shows, no net, and they were </span>
  <em>
    <span>glorious. </span>
  </em>
  <span>He wasn’t allowed to perform with them when the net was gone, not until he was older. It was dangerous, they said.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He’d never really thought about how dangerous the shows were, but it suddenly occurred to him, milliseconds before he watched the ropes jerk and suddenly snap, and his mother reached desperately to grab his father's hands. He caught her, barely, and Grayson- Dick, back then- had a moment of relief . </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They were safe. They would be okay.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He had only glanced away for a fraction of a second before the crowd behind him let out another chorus of gasps and screams. His eyes snapped up to see the ropes of his father’s trapeze snapping as well, almost in slow motion. Dick watched in terror, scream building in the back of his throat, as they both fell, hitting the floor with a crunch that he remembered in his worst nightmares. . The bar they had been hanging from clattered to the floor a moment later, the clanging echoing in the sudden silence of the circus, and before Dick could even think he had leapt the barrier and was running to his parents.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>He jolted awake, gasping.  He hadn’t had a dream, much less a nightmare, since his training as a Talon had begun. He threw himself to his feet, but something was wrong. He was still in the Court’s maze, but it was different. The shadows seemed to move, and he could almost hear footsteps over the terrified beating of his heart.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He started hurriedly down the hallway back to the fountain room, hoping the bright lights would chase away the shadows. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He felt an insurmountable relief when he reached the light, despite the familiar ache in his eyes, as he left the darkness behind. When he reached the fountain he splashed water on his face and, ignoring the danger, drank heartily, wondering again at the sweet taste.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He should try the third door, he decided, before he was too hungry to do anything. He did the same thing he’d done the two times before, keeping a hand on the wall, trying his best to keep from getting lost.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The moving shadows and ghostly footsteps returned the moment he was back in the maze. He tried desperately to stay calm, forced his breathing and heart rate to slow, but he couldn’t fight whatever the Court had released into the maze with him. He was panicking, just as he had that night so many years ago as he watched his parents tumble to their deaths.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He could have sworn he heard something flap past his ear, but when he spun the corridor was as empty as it had been before. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>This time he didn’t make it back to the fountain room before he got too tired to go on. He didn’t want to sleep, afraid it would prompt another nightmare, so he settled for leaning against the wall for a few minutes. The cool marble felt good against his forehead. He forced his feet to move him away from the wall after a few moments, afraid of becoming too comfortable. He knew he had to be on the alert.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Voices were whispering, but Grayson couldn’t make out the words. He was stumbling with exhaustion, and he had lost track of the turns he’d taken in the maze. He was beyond lost now. The shadows still shifted in the corners of his eyes, and things still moved on the edge of his vision.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was alone, he told himself. There was nothing in the maze with him, if there was it would have attacked him by now.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He tried to make himself believe it, but he couldn’t tune out the rustling and scratching of fur and feathers somewhere just out of sight. He covered his ears and sank against the wall, squeezing his eyes closed.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t want to die in the Court’s cursed maze.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>It felt like the shadows were pressing in on him, fluttering against his back and trying to push past his arms shielding his face. He curled as small as he could, trying to get away from the noise and the sensation of wings beating against him. He kept his eyes closed, trying desperately not  to see whatever was attacking him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Eventually, the fluttering died away, and the panicky sensation was replaced with overwhelming thirst and hunger. He pushed himself up from the wall, almost collapsing again. He leaned against the wall and tried to still the spinning of the corridor around him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When his vision cleared, he moved forward, slowly, hoping he was heading the right direction. He just wanted to get back to the fountain room, at least there the shadows didn’t- couldn’t- chase him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He didn’t remember reaching the fountain room, but the next thing he knew he was splashing water onto his face and scooping it up to drink.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He allowed himself to rest against the fountain. He wasn’t going back into the maze, not after that.  At first he fought to keep his eyes from closing, but it didn’t take long for him to give up on that as well.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was awoken roughly, again, but this time not because of a nightmare - but because the bright lights had been suddenly doused. He could still feel the rim of the fountain digging uncomfortably against his back, but the falling water had stopped. The same feathery noise that had chased him in the maze was back, and it was much louder than before.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Measuring his breathing and pointedly ignoring his trembling fingers, he felt his way slowly around the fountain, sinking back down where it met the wall. He doubted it would do much good if he was attacked, but it made him feel slightly more secure, and he would take what he could get.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Something grabbed his arm, and he tried to leap away. He was too tired and hungry for it to do much good. The pain in his head spiked in protest, and he stumbled into whatever had grabbed him. It felt like a person, and they held Grayson’s arm in a painful grip. When he tried again to pull away, the arm was twisted so that he let out a sharp gasp. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Everything was spinning. He couldn’t fight back. They were going to kill him, after all, despite his great destiny. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was half-led, half-dragged somewhere. He assumed it was somewhere deeper into the maze, but even the dim lights in the corridors had been shut off. The person dragging him never paused long enough for Grayson to get his feet under him, and when he tried to kick at his captor he was slammed against the wall so hard he tasted blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He gave up fighting, after that. He hoped  whoever had him would kill him quickly. He didn’t want to suffer for whatever he’d done to anger the Court anymore.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was next aware of a terrible grating sound, like a rock being scraped against another, and then he was tossed unceremoniously on the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he struggled to his feet something shoved him back down, and held him there, with what felt like a boot on his chest.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>His head was smashed against the floor. His head filled with a buzzing fluff.  As his consciousness slipped away, he felt the pressure on his chest lessen. A thousand miles away, he heard faint footsteps fade into the distance. </span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>When he woke, he was laying restrained on a metal table.There was someone wearing  a Court member’s mask standing over him. His head still ached, but there was less of the stabbing pain he vaguely recalled from the maze.  He didn’t feel like he was starving anymore. The Court must have decided that whatever he had done wasn’t worth losing their Talon of prophecy.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He shook his head, groaning, as he blinked the darkness out of his eyes and rebelled against the desire to roll over and go back to sleep. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Court member watched for a moment, gave him a once-over, and finally undid the restraints when he seemed satisfied that Grayson was unlikely to try anything.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson sat up, rubbing the sore spot where the person in the maze had grabbed his arm. He stared questioningly at the Court member, who walked out of the room without saying a word.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A door opened behind him, and Cobb walked into the room. Grayson glared at him, sure this fucked up new punishment was his idea.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb crossed his arms and stared back at Grayson, the mask hiding his expression.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations,” he finally spat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“What?” Grayson stopped rubbing his arm to look at Cobb incredulously.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Congratulations. You passed your first Trial, by some miracle.” Cobb sounded angry about that fact.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson swung his legs down off the table and twisted his face into a frown. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>That</span>
  </em>
  <span> was my first Trial? You said the first Trial was supposed to be a solo mission.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Evidently, it wasn’t.” Cobb’s face turned sour. “The first Trial is the Labyrinth. You go in without preparation.You can’t be prepared if you don’t know it’s coming, so I didn’t tell you. If you survive, you pass.” Now Cobb sounded almost smug.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span> Grayson ignored the growl bubbling in the back of his throat.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>If that was his first Trial, that meant that the other Trials would follow soon. He’d have to go on a solo mission. And he would have to kill his mentor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He glanced at his lap then back up at Cobb. He would enjoy </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>Trial, though he would never admit it out loud. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb seemed to read his mind, and snapped at him, “</span>
  <em>
    <span>I</span>
  </em>
  <span> don’t think you’re ready, but the Court is insisting.” He sneered. “I do hope you don’t get yourself killed. It would be a shame if their Gray Son died before he could fulfill the prophecy.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson could hear the smirk on his voice.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson kicked through the window and swung himself into the room. The man he had been sent to kill leapt up and bolted for the door, and Grayson intercepted him easily.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Nickolas Morgan, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.” He flung a knife that the man tried to dodge, but was too slow. It caught him in the arm and he screamed, falling against the wall as Grayson advanced on him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“No! Don’t hurt me! I’ll never speak their name again, if you promise not to hurt me-”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson tuned out the man’s frantic babbling and slashed the knife across his neck, then turned on the lady that must have been his wife.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Angelina Morgan, the Court of Owls has sentenced you to die.” Grayson grabbed the woman by the hair, yanking her head at an angle to expose her vulnerable throat. She twisted in his grasp, tears in her eyes.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Please- I didn’t-” She choked back a terrified sob. “Please.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson hesitated. The Court had told him he was supposed to kill the target, and the target’s family. He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, you couldn’t leave loose ends, but now that he was </span>
  <em>
    <span>here, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he didn’t want to kill this woman. She hadn’t done anything wrong, as far as he could tell; moreover, it would seem that she didn’t even know anything about the Court.. It was far too late now, however; he had woken her, and said the Court’s name. Leaving her alive meant leaving evidence of the Court’s existence. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pressed the knife to her throat, and her pleas trailed off.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He pulled back for a moment, just long enough to whisper, “I’m sorry.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>She clawed at his hands in one last attempt to free herself, then went limp as the knife exposed her bright red blood. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He was glad the man he had been sent to kill didn’t have any children. Killing Owlets was where he drew the line; he couldn’t kill an innocent child,  not even with the threat of the Court’s anger hanging over his head.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>This was the only Trial he had been looking forward to. The Court had called him to their arena, and when he walked in, Cobb was standing on the other side. The Court was watching from above them, and this time Grayson didn’t hesitate to make the first move.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He wasted no time flinging a throwing knife in Cobb's direction, knowing it would be easy to dodge, but using it as a distraction to get in close. Cobb was ready for him, with a knife already blocking Grayson from cutting across his throat. Grayson redirected his own knife, stabbing down into Cobb’s stomach at the last minute.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb barely flinched, and threw Grayson backwards hard enough that he overbalanced and fell. He wasted no time flipping back onto his feet, knife back up and at the ready again.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb circled him, a knife flashing over his fingers. When Grayson lunged forward Cobb sent the knife spinning towards him, but he ducked around it and slashed across his shoulder, only slightly off balance from the dodge.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again, Cobb barely reacted to the attack. He spun, pinning Grayson against the wall and reached for a knife to deliver the killing blow. Grayson twisted, frantically trying to escape the Talon’s hold. He couldn’t reach his knives, and the one he had been holding was knocked to the floor.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>One of his arms was pinned behind him, and he suddenly remembered his boot knife. He kicked a foot up and grabbed it. Cobb left a tiny opening, confused by the movement, and Grayson took it, slicing upwards across his mentor’s throat. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The attack didn’t kill Cobb, he was a Talon, after all, but it caused him to stumble back for long enough that Grayson could breathe again. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb was back on the offensive within a second, gash on his neck sealing as if it had never been there at all. Grayson dodged his charge, flipping over his shoulder and sinking a knife into his back on the way over. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb whirled and caught Grayson’s wrist, twisting it until he cried out in pain and it snapped. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Again there was a moment where he paused, Grayson wasn’t sure why, perhaps he was trying to determine the best way to kill him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The reason didn’t matter though. It was an opening and Grayson took it, stabbing up into Cobb's chest and again across his neck. This time the death took, and Grayson’s wrist was released.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Cobb slumped to the floor and Grayson wasted no time in sawing a knife around his neck, separating his head from his body entirely. Electrum, slow and black, leaked onto the clean white floor, mixing with Grayson’s own blood.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>He held up the head of his mentor- </span>
  <em>
    <span>Former </span>
  </em>
  <span>mentor, he reminded himself- and faced the Court.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>They didn’t clap, not that he expected them to. The Grandmaster nodded once, then spoke.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Gray Son of Gotham, you have proven yourself worthy of the mantle of Talon.” His tone was almost congratulatory, and Grayson dipped his head respectfully.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Thank you Grandmaster.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>A panel in the wall slid open, and a Court member carting something black and gold  approached him. Grayson looked at the Grandmaster, then at the Talon uniform being held out to him.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The Grandmaster nodded again, and a whisper rippled through the Court. “You will take time to heal, then you will join the ranks of the Court as Talon.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>Grayson took the uniform, and exited through the door the grandmaster gestured to. A Court underling guided him back to an infirmary, and someone tended to his wounds before they sent him back to his room. </span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>When he was finally alone he unfolded the uniform they had given him and looked at it carefully. It was new, the gold detailing done beautifully. The mask was similar to Cobb’s, he knew the uniforms were based heavily on the Talon before them. The main difference was that Cobb’s mask covered his full face, while Grayson’s  left his eyes uncovered by anything besides his goggles. If he was being honest, it was more of a hood than a mask.</span>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <span>The next time he was called before the Court, it was as their Talon.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>The grandmaster was rambling on about an enemy of the Court’s, the Batman and his group of child heroes. Grayson was only half listening, wondering how one man and a group of </span>
  <em>
    <span>children</span>
  </em>
  <span> could be such a problem to the Court.</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span>“Talon, we have recently discovered the true identities of these so-called heroes. They are all members of the Wayne family, and your mission, as Talon, is to kill them. You will go tomorrow night.”</span>
</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Mercy Down</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The Bats appear.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Happy birthday to my wonderful girlfriend, I hope you enjoy this chapter.<br/>Title is the song of the same name by Shayfer James.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <span>Grayson jimmied the lock on the window and slid it up carefully. Honestly, he’d expected more security, but he guessed the Waynes weren’t expecting an attack on the third story of their house.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Slipping silently into the hallway, he peered into each open door he passed. He was looking for a bedroom that was occupied. It didn’t matter which of the Waynes he killed first, as long as they were all dead by morning.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Every room he passed was empty, and he guessed they must have had their bedrooms on one of the lower floors.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Court had warned him that the Waynes were dangerous, working at night as the group of vigilantes often known as the Bats. They had told him to strike quickly, before they could react. Already he was doing a bad job of that, he’d been here for easily ten minutes, and he hadn’t found a single one of the Waynes. It was a minor miracle that he hadn’t set off any sort of alarm yet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He moved cautiously down the stairs, listening for any sign of people. The house was silent, but he couldn’t allow himself to relax.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The next hallway he crept through, the doors were all shut. Grayson cracked the first one slowly, and peered into the bedroom.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A boy lay asleep on the bed, and he stirred slightly as the door creaked. Grayson froze, knife ready to block an attack, but the boy hadn’t woken.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The boy was Damian Wayne, and he couldn’t have been more than ten. The Court claimed he was the most dangerous of them, he had trained with the League of Assassins, and unlike the other Bats, he wouldn’t hesitate to kill Grayson if he had the chance.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t </span>
  <em>
    <span>look</span>
  </em>
  <span> dangerous, he looked like a sleeping kid. Grayson approached him slowly, fighting with his conscience. He’d said he would never kill an innocent child, but this boy was far from innocent, if the Court was to be believed. The League required their trainees to kill, at a younger age, and more often than the Court did.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He heard noises in the hallway and glanced back, realizing he had hesitated far too long. When he returned his gaze to Damian, he was awake. Grayson only had time to raise an armored wrist to block the sword swinging towards him, and the door behind him burst open with the other Bats. He spun away from his attackers, yanking out a second knife to join the first as he faced them.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>There were three of them facing him, the Bat himself, the boy he called his robin, and Damian. Grayson glanced behind him at the window, and inched towards it, hoping he could get close enough to jump before they realized what he was doing.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin realized first, and leapt forward, blocking Grayson’s escape and slamming him into the wall with his bo staff. Grayson brought his knives forward and sprung towards the window again, hoping to cut the boy down and get around him, but was interrupted by the slice of Damian’s katana at his waist. He sidestepped, wincing as the tip of the sword bit into him. There were too many of them, and the Court had been right. Hesitation was about to get him killed.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Batman had been moving to attack Grayson as well, but he hesitated when he saw the blood leaking from his side.</span>
</p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Of course!</span>
  </em>
  <span> The Bats didn’t kill, and Grayson was still alive. They must have assumed he was like the rest of the Talons, but now he had an opening. Robin was still blocking the window, but the Batman’s movement had left the door unguarded.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson threw himself between Damian and the Bat, slamming the door shut in an attempt to slow them. He ran down the hallway and leapt over the railing of the stairs, charging for the front doors. Suddenly the lights cut out, and Grayson was thankful for the night vision of the Talon goggles.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He swore as metal grates fell over the windows. </span>
  <em>
    <span>Of course</span>
  </em>
  <span> the Bats had a lock-down procedure on their house. He moved into what may have been a library, although it was hard to tell.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>All he needed was to find somewhere to hide. If he could avoid the Bats for long enough to come up with a plan, he could find a way to kill them, or at least to escape. It couldn’t be </span>
  <em>
    <span>that </span>
  </em>
  <span>hard to hide in a mansion as big as the Wayne's, could it?</span>
</p><p>
  <span>A small door tucked into a corner seemed like a good option, and he stepped through into what appeared to be an office. It wasn’t the best hiding place, there was another door leading into what must have been the main hallway, but he could hear the Bats searching for him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He crouched underneath the desk and waited.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He came through here!”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson winced as he realized he hadn’t thought about the fact that his bleeding would leave a trail leading right to him. The door from the library opened and he saw Robin’s feet walking around the desk towards him. He lunged out at the kid as soon as he rounded the desk.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He hadn’t been expecting the sword pressing against his throat, he could have sworn he hadn’t heard Damian's footsteps.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He froze, realizing he was trapped. He could hear the other Bats approaching, and Damian would kill him if he moved, still alive or not.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Why are you here, Talon?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson didn’t answer. They could do anything they wanted to him, but it wouldn’t make him talk. He was trapped, but the Court might forgive him if he kept silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Robin shook his head. “He’s not going to talk to us. You should know that, his training must have been something like yours.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>When the Batman finally reached them Grayson had been bound and Damian was holding him still while Robin examined his wound.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Is he badly hurt?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’ll heal. Why do we care anyway? He’s a </span>
  <em>
    <span>Talon.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” Damian stood and Grayson tried to jerk away from Robin's grasp, but his side hurt too much to move.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“He’s not a Talon yet. We don’t kill, no matter what.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father! He was trying to kill </span>
  <em>
    <span>us!</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>The Bat sighed and pushed his son away. Damian made an offended snort and stormed out. The Bat grabbed Grayson and hauled him to his feet.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Tim, get him something for the pain.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson felt himself being half-carried somewhere, and he was laid on a cot. He felt the prick of a needle and the world faded.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <span>He pushed himself up as soon as he was awake, and fell back because of a stabbing pain in his side. The place he’d been cut was bandaged, but it had been a while since then. He could see his blood soaking through the bandage, and realized that the wound had been worse than he’d thought. He doubted he could have made it back to the Court without dying.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>At least the Bats had given him a pillow, they were kinder than the Court in that aspect. He was laid on a bed of sorts, it was too nice to be called a cot, and he didn’t seem to be locked in. It wouldn’t have mattered, the amount of pain even sitting up brought suggested he wouldn’t be able to walk anyway.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“Father, your prisoner is awake.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson turned his head at Daimans’ voice. The youngest Wayne was standing in the doorway and glaring at someone Grayson couldn’t see.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How is he?” That was Bruce Wayne’s voice. Grayson tried to push himself up again and sucked in a breath at the flash of pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Damian didn’t answer, and Wayne pushed past him in the doorway and stopped a few feet from the bed, eyeing Grayson warily.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>“How are you?”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson kept his mouth shut and narrowed his eyes. The Court had trained him to not give up any information, no matter what someone did to interrogate him. This was an unusual method, but he was determined to keep silent.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wayne sighed. “Are you in pain? We can get you more painkillers if you need them. You don’t have to talk, just nod yes or no.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He didn’t trust their painkillers. If they were anything like what they’d given him the night before he wanted to avoid them at all costs. He’d rather have a chance at escape than be passed out the whole time, even if it meant he’d have to suffer through the pain.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>He shook his head slowly. Wayne raised an eyebrow but didn’t press him.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson dropped his head back into the pillows and watched Wayne turn to leave out of the corner of his eye.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Wayne paused in the doorway. “I’m sorry you got injured, we didn’t realize you weren’t one of their Talons.”</span>
</p><p>
  <span>Grayson didn’t respond, and Wayne left after a minute.</span>
</p><p>
  <span>It would have been rather stupid of him to leave Grayson unguarded, but Wayne seemed to know exactly how injured he was, and that there was no way he’d be able to move from the bed for at least a few days. For now, Grayson was left alone.</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Chapter four might be delayed a bit, it's gonna be LONG, and it's nowhere near ready yet. I hope this can tide y'all over till then :)</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Who Are You, Really?</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Angst? Fluff? Who even knows. Anyway, it's not as long as planned because I decided to split it in half.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Chapter title is a song by Mikky Ekko</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The next time Grayson woke the youngest Wayne was staring at him from the doorway. Damian hadn’t noticed he was awake yet, and Grayson had time to puzzle over his expression. He wasn’t glaring, for once, and he was clearly thinking hard about something.</p><p>When Damian noticed Grayson staring back the glare returned.</p><p>“You should be dead. My father made a mistake saving you.”</p><p>It took all of his will power to not snap back with something about how he should have killed Damian when he had the chance. He didn’t like any of the Bats very much, but Damian he especially hated.</p><p>“I don’t know what he was thinking, and I don’t care. If you put a toe out of line I’ll kill you without hesitation.”</p><p>Grayson snorted. “You’re what? <em> Ten </em>?”</p><p>Damian took a threatening step towards him and cocked an eyebrow. “It would be easy, and I’m not afraid of my father. Don’t test me, Talon.”</p><p>Grayson offered a shrug, but nothing more. He’d already screwed up by letting himself react to Damian’s threat, he wasn’t going to be baited any further.</p><p>Damian huffed and crossed his arms. Grayson wondered why he was even there, it didn’t seem like Wayne had ordered a guard yet, and even if he had, he didn’t seem like the kind of person to set a <em> child </em> the task of guarding a Talon.</p><p>He was broken from his thoughts when Damian spoke again. “Why didn’t you kill me?”</p><p>He almost made the mistake of speaking a second time, instead whipping around so fast that he was pretty sure he’d torn the stitches in his side. Damian was staring at him with raised eyebrows, and he fought to hide the pain on his face.</p><p>“I was awake, I watched you stand there. Why didn’t you kill me when you had the chance?”</p><p>Grayson didn’t know, he realized. He hadn’t <em> wanted </em> to do what the Court had ordered, but he knew better than to disobey.</p><p>So <em> why </em>had he hesitated?</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>None of the Bats had given him anything to do, although he was already being treated much better than he’d expected. They’d fixed the torn stitches, and had even offered him painkillers beyond the anesthetic, something the Court had never given him.</p><p>He was bored, but he was a Talon, and Talons didn’t need entertainment. He made do with listening to the Waynes come and go. Damian had barely left the room at all, and Bruce had looked in to check on Grayson’s healing a few times.</p><p>They had a butler who’d brought him food a few times. At first Grayson had refused to eat but he was getting hungry and figured that eating couldn’t hurt.</p><p>The next time the butler walked in with a tray Grayson accepted the food silently. Damian raised an eyebrow from the place against the wall he’d claimed as his.</p><p>“I thought you were trying to starve yourself.”</p><p>Grayson glared at him. He didn’t want to put up with this kid, but he couldn’t leave. He still couldn’t do more than sit up, and even that caused too much pain to do for long. He just had to wait until he was healed, then he could find a chance to escape.</p><p>He made sure the kid wasn’t looking, then slipped the knife off the tray and out of sight. Once he was healed he would need it.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Damian kept repeating his question. Every day he’d wait until there was no one in the room and ask, and Grayson would glare back silently. He didn’t understand why the kid couldn’t just give up. He was tempted to answer, just to see how the kid would react.</p><p>The fifth day Grayson noticed Robin watching him through the doorway. He’d never had a chance to get a good look at the kid, so he watched back.</p><p>The kid had longish hair, it would be easy to grab in a fight. He wasn’t relaxed, exactly, but he wasn’t as tense as Damian. He looked young, still in high school maybe. Grayson couldn’t be sure, he didn’t see many children in the Court.</p><p>“Why haven’t you tried to escape yet? You’ve healed enough that you could attack us, so why didn’t you?”</p><p><em> Great. </em> Now this one was asking him questions as well. He scowled from the bed, thinking. He knew he could have attacked them, but why would he? He’d fail if he tried, and he wasn’t desperate. </p><p>What could it hurt to answer? The Court would kill him if they found out, but who said they had to know? He was about to open his mouth when Robin huffed in frustration.</p><p>“Fine. But don’t expect to be left without a guard from now on.”</p><p>He left then, leaving Grayson alone in the room.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next time Damian asked his question, Grayson was expecting it.</p><p>"You should be grateful you're still alive."</p><p>Damian <em> hmphed </em> and glared at him. Clearly that wasn’t the answer he was hoping for, but eventually he seemed to decide he wasn’t going to get anything else out of him. Grayson was almost relieved to see him go. He'd never been allowed to speak to anyone in the Court, and the short conversation with Damian left him confused. Why had he thought it was a good idea to answer the question, even if it was more of a non-answer? It seemed harmless enough at first, but what if the kid told his father or one of the other Bats? </p><p>They'd almost certainly come and try to interrogate him, and he didn't want that to happen. He couldn't talk to any of them again, no matter what. If the Court found out- He vowed to make sure the Court didn't find out about his slip-up. If he said anything more the Bats would use it to go after the Court, and they would know he'd betrayed them. The Court didn't tolerate traitors, and Grayson knew he wouldn't survive if he went back to them as one. </p><p> </p><p>It wasn't long before Wayne came into his room and stared at him. "You speak?"</p><p>Grayson shook his head. Of course Damian had mentioned it, he didn't really know what else to expect. </p><p>Wayne frowned at him. "Damian said you spoke to him.”</p><p>Wayne paused, thinking about something. “If you don't want to do what they tell you, you don't have to go back."</p><p>Grayson almost let a <em> what? </em> slip from his lips before he clamped them shut again. Was the Bat offering a way he could leave the Court? Didn't he know that doing anything that angered the Court was a death sentence, and the reason Grayson hadn't <em> really </em>talked yet.</p><p>If the Court could be escaped, he would have done it years ago. He had been desperate, and scared at first, and he had tried. Cobb had beaten that desire out of him within the week, and he'd never tried again. He thought about it, from time to time, but he knew the Court's reach extended much farther than he could ever run.</p><p>"If you want to stay here, I can protect you from the Court. They hadn’t found us before <em> you </em>. I would make sure that it could never happen again."</p><p>Again, Grayson shook his head. He couldn't afford to hope that it was possible. The Court would send Talon after Talon for him, and if they failed at first it wouldn't take too long for them to find another way. The only choice he had was to finish the mission and go back to them. </p><p>The Bats would have to be a casualty he couldn't avoid, but he knew if he didn't kill them another Talon would, and another Talon wouldn't be as merciful. Wayne sighed and brought Grayson's focus back to reality. He was still standing there, looking like he wanted to argue that Grayson should stay, instead of running back to the Court like a scared child.</p><p>He wasn’t scared, and he wasn't going to run. He was only going to do his job, and escape.</p><p>He slipped a hand down along the side of the bed , searching for the knife he had secreted away.</p><p>Grayson flung it at Bruce, but he had hesitated too long. The man dodged and dove towards him.</p><p>He tried to jump away from Wayne's attack, but was too slow, and he was tackled against the bed. </p><p>"I didn't want to hurt you, I wanted to help you." </p><p>Wayne flipped him onto his stomach and pinned his arms behind him.</p><p>"I hoped you would see reason before you tried anything."  </p><p>Wayne kept him pinned and shouted, "Jason! I need you to get up here!" </p><p>A kid, sixteen or seventeen from what Grayson could see of him, stepped into the room, eyes widening when he saw his father pinning a struggling Grayson.</p><p>"What the hell?"</p><p>"He tried to attack me. He failed, obviously, but we need to put him somewhere more secure so he can't try it again."</p><p>"Why did you let him stay up here for so long? He should have been in a cell downstairs days ago.”</p><p>"I thought he could be trusted."</p><p>"That's- Why?"</p><p>"He could have tried to kill us the first day he spent here, and he didn't. I figured that he wouldn't want to change that." </p><p>Jason sighed and helped Bruce tie Grayson up, then carry him downstairs. </p><p>They pulled a blindfold over his face and carried him down another flight of stars, then dropped him rudely onto a cold metal floor. They took off the blindfold, but left his wrists bound behind his back.</p><p>He glared at them through the door, and Wayne sent Jason away.</p><p>"Listen, I know you're scared of them. The Court are powerful people, but if I could avoid them this long, I could protect you too."</p><p>Grayson shook his head again. He wasn’t afraid of the Court- was he? They were his masters, and as long as he did what they wanted there was no reason to fear them.</p><p>"Fine.  I'll send someone down with food for you, and maybe you'll decide to talk to us then. We really do want to help you." Wayne looked at him with an expression that almost resembled pity, which Grayson hated. Why was Wayne pitying him when he had been sent for the man's head? </p><p>Grayson glared at him, wishing that he would just be left alone. He didn't want any part of Wayne's crusade against the Court, and he wasn't willing to even say a word that might help him.</p><p>Finally Wayne left him, and Grayson sat on the bunk in the wall, fighting with the rope around his wrists until it fell away. It hadn't been hard to escape, and it gave him something to do with his time.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>A few hours- <em> Minutes? Days? He didn’t know </em>- later he heard someone approaching down a flight of stairs. He stood and stretched, moving to peer out the door to see who it was.  Unexpectedly, it was Wayne and two of his children, and they didn't have the food they had mentioned. Instead they were arguing quietly about something. Damian seemed to be fighting his father and Robin on something.</p><p>"And you don't think you can trust me."</p><p>"No, I trust you-"</p><p>"Then why am I not allowed to join you on these missions?"</p><p>"Damian-"</p><p>"Do not. <em> Jason </em> was allowed to go with you when he was my age, and I have <em> ten times </em> the training he did!”</p><p>“Jason wasn’t as much of a risk as you are.” Wayne sounded tired, like he’d had this argument before.</p><p>"Wasn't as much of a risk? Do you mean he wasn't at risk <em> from </em> your enemies, or do you mean he wasn't a risk <em> to </em> your enemies?" Damian's tone was icy, and both Robin and Wayne made frustrated sounds.</p><p>"Damian-" Robin started, but Wayne cut him off.</p><p>"Tim, I can deal with this. Go get yourself ready to go." </p><p>He turned and faced Damian on the base of the stairs. Damian crossed his arms and scowled.</p><p>"You think I might kill someone."</p><p>Wayne sighed. "I know you wouldn't mean to, but your instincts are stronger than your training.”</p><p>"I won't. I think I've been trained well enough to not kill someone if I don't want to."</p><p>"My answer is still no. It's too dangerous, both to <em> you </em>and to civilians."</p><p>Damian practically snarled at him. "And some civilian is more important to you than your own son?" </p><p>Wayne didn't answer him, but had the decency to look ashamed. Damian snarled again, in wordless frustration, before storming back up the stairs and out of sight.</p><p>Grayson barely had time to back away from the door before Wayne glanced at his cell. He narrowed his eyes at Grayson, but didn't say anything. He walked past, out of Grayson's line of sight, and a few minutes later he heard what must have been the batmobile roar to life. The noise echoed around the area before fading into nothingness . </p><p>Eventually, Wayne's butler came down with a tray of food. He slid it through a slot in the door and stared at Grayson. </p><p>"Master Bruce just wants to help you, young man. There's nothing wrong with accepting help once in a while"</p><p>Grayson turned his back on the door and waited for the man to leave. </p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The next time they disturbed Grayson, it was the oldest of them, Jason.</p><p>"Hey.” He paused. “I don't know who you are- Do you even have a name?"</p><p>Grayson glared at him through the door.</p><p>Jason sighed. "Listen, I know you were sent here to kill us and all, but you didn't, and you've had plenty of chances. I just want to know why you insist on fighting us,  since you clearly aren't trying very hard to kill us. "</p><p><em> Because I don't know what I want to do, yet. </em> Grayson shook the thought away. He was going to finish his mission, or die trying. Jason kept staring at him like he expected an answer, and Grayson stared back. If the guy thought he was going to say something, he was very wrong. </p><p>They stood like that, staring from opposite sides of the door, until footsteps in the room behind them made Jason turn.</p><p>Damian was coming down the stairs, and Jason held a finger up to Grayson like he was shushing him.  "Bruce told you to stay away from him." </p><p>Damian glared at Jason, then looked around him at Grayson.  His expression softened from defiance to something Grayson couldn't read, and he half shrugged.</p><p>"I wanted to see him."</p><p><em> What? </em> Why would the kid want to see him? Hadn't he been sent to kill them? </p><p>"I don't really care if you wanted to see him, Bruce <em> told </em> you to stay away from him, and now you're directly disobeying him."</p><p>Damian snorted. "It's not like it's going to break his trust. He already expects me to disobey him, so why shouldn’t I? Now, let me talk to the Talon."</p><p>Jason almost stepped aside, but at the last second he seemed to decide that he shouldn’t let Damian past. "Absolutely not."</p><p>"Why not? He's in a cell, it’s not like he can harm me from in there."</p><p>"He could break out. The Court trains their Talons to do impossible things. And if he does get out, or if you're stupid and open the door, he could- and probably would- kill you! I'm not going to let you disobey him, he's your dad."</p><p>"He's barely my father, all he ever did was keep me from doing anything useful, and he won't even let me train with you!" He stopped, seeming to try and collect himself. "Fine. if you won't leave, I'll let you keep and eye on me while I talk to him, happy?"</p><p>"No. Bruce said you weren't allowed anywhere near him.  Now leave, or I <em> will </em> tell Bruce that you were down here."</p><p>The threat seemed to have enough of an effect that Damian turned and climbed the stairs to the rest of the house, shooting another glare at Jason over his shoulder as he went.</p><p>Jason turned back to the cell. "You're not going to say anything to me, are you?"</p><p>Grayson shook his head, then cursed himself for allowing even the slightest bit of a response. Every tiny bit of feedback he gave them was another thing the Court could punish him for when he returned. He had to get himself under control.</p><p>Jason left him, and followed Damian up the stairs. The lights dimmed, and Grayson was left alone in the darkness.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>That night Grayson was almost asleep when he heard light footsteps on the stairs. He sat bolt upright, straining his ears for a hint of whoever was coming. The lights were  still out, and he could just barely see his hand in front of his face. Had the Court sent  a Talon to retrieve him? Was he going to be punished?</p><p>He realized as he scrunched himself against the wall, that he was afraid, afraid of what would happen if the Court had sent someone to bring him back. He wasn't sure if he <em> wanted </em> to go back anymore.</p><p>The footsteps stopped outside of his cell, and his breath caught in his throat. He shifted, getting to his feet as quietly as he could manage. A Talon, especially one who had gotten the electrum, would know to listen for the smallest of sounds and any attempt to fight them would be useless, they'd have the night vision goggles, and Grayson would be left alone in the dark. . </p><p>He didn't care. He wouldn't let himself be dragged back, he would fight until he couldn't and then he'd do his best to attract the Bat's attention. He didn't want to cooperate with them, but he had decided he didn't want to go back to the Court.</p><p>A hand rapped against the door of the cell, and it lacked the metallic clink that would have signaled a Talon's bracers and claws. Something rustled, and a flashlight flicked on. </p><p>Damian stood there, a finger to his lips. </p><p>"Hi. You have to stay quiet, or else we'll trigger some alarm or another. " He whispered, sinking down so he was cross legged in front of the door. He gestured for Grayson to come closer to him, and when Grayson stayed standing in the center of the cell he frowned.</p><p>"I'm not going to bite you, and you don't have to talk to me if you don't want to." </p><p>That was enough that Grayson took a step forward and sat down, although he stayed a ways back from the door.</p><p>Damian half-smiled at him, the first smile he'd seen from any of the Bats. </p><p>They sat like that, in not-quite-comfortable silence, for what must have been half an hour. Damian kept the light angled down so there was just barely enough light to see by, and let his head lean against the glass of the door.</p><p>Eventually, Damian spoke. "I know you probably won't answer me, but why didn't you kill me when you had the chance? I was awake- I saw you standing there like you didn't know what you were doing." </p><p>"I-" He stopped himself then shook his head. He'd already decided he didn't want to go back to the Court anymore. "I didn't want to kill a child. They couldn't make me kill a kid, it’s not <em> right </em>." </p><p>"Weren't you afraid they would punish you if you didn’t?"</p><p>Grayson realized then that the League, who had trained Damian before he lived with Bruce, had been like the Court. He had thought league members were there by choice, but hearing that question, he realized Damian had been afraid to disobey them.</p>
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